


True Lies

by BrunetteAuthorette99



Series: Heroine Without Honor [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Proxy Stage Time For the Hero, What PROBABLY Happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrunetteAuthorette99/pseuds/BrunetteAuthorette99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mercer Frey returns from Snow Veil Sanctum, considerably the worse for wear - and, much to Brynjolf's dismay, without his promising new protégée. How does he and the other members of the Thieves Guild react to the shocking news concerning Kajsa - and do they believe it? </p><p>One-shot. Takes place before <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2301317/chapters/5062256"><em>The Bear and the Wolf.</em></a></p>
            </blockquote>





	True Lies

**Author's Note:**

> I can't be the only one who wondered exactly _what_ Mercer told the Thieves Guild after he returned from Snow Veil Sanctum _sans_ Dovahkiin. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been pleasant if it persuaded Brynjolf - your biggest supporter in the Guild! - as well as Vex and Delvin to pull their daggers on you and Karliah as soon as you walk into the Cistern.
> 
> This is almost identical to what I have posted over on FF.net, but I tweaked some things here and there so that it fits into my canon Skyrim timeline (where Kajsa is the Dragonborn) more smoothly.

Nights in the Ragged Flagon were fairly quiet. No especially rowdy patrons, no fistfights or duels, and certainly no bards to wail ballads over the din – just the swilling of mead, the lapping and dripping of the sewer water, and muttered conversations.

To Brynjolf, the reason why was simple: everyone here knew each other. Unless they were looking to join (a rare occurrence these days), outsiders rarely ventured into the Ratway for a drink; all of the Flagon’s patrons were either associated with or part of the Thieves Guild. And everyone who frequented the bar knew full well that Vekel the Man, the barkeep, did not tolerate disturbances of any kind.

Tonight was no exception to the rule. It was well after midnight, and while some of the younger members were catching up on sleep or training in the Cistern, most others were in the Ragged Flagon, following their usual nightly routine: casual conversation over cards and mead.

… Casual for the Thieves Guild, at least.

“Steal anything worth talking about?” Vex asked, eyes glittered in anticipation.

Brynjolf smiled, plucking out a bulging coin purse from one of the pouches on his armor. “Only the septims of gullible travelers and Riften residents, lass. I’m honestly a little disappointed that it was that easy.”

“Still milkin’ that ‘Falmerblood Elixir,’ then, eh?” Delvin Mallory chortled, taking a swig of Black-Briar Reserve.

“I’m on my last bottles. I’ll have to move onto something else in due time.” Brynjolf sighed. “Pity. It was probably my most popular scam.”

“Maybe you can finally quit the merchant act for good, Bryn. Things are startin’ to look up down ‘ere.” Delvin leaned over the table conspiratorially. “Did Vekel tell you who dropped in a few nights ago?”

“Who?” Vex twirled one pale, thin finger around the rim of her tankard.

“The boss lady ‘erself. Maven Black-Briar.” Delvin looked slightly smug at his friends’ incredulous expressions. “She was _smilin’_ , even. Vekel said ‘e’d never seen ‘er that pleased.”

“I would have paid good money to see that,” Vex said enviously.

Tonilia laughed, leaning against the bar. “You think _that’s_ news? Guess who I heard from?”

The three thieves at the round table shrugged, prepared for anything.

“That slimy Argonian, Gulum-Ei. Says he owes a debt to the Guild and he wants to work with us again as a fence.”

At his post by the Ragged Flagon’s sign, Dirge crossed his arms and glowered. “I don’t like him. Nothing but trouble.”

Tonilia held up her hands. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t my call. Mercer seemed pleased enough, though.”

Everyone fell silent at that. It was an unspoken truth amongst the members of the Thieves Guild that when their Guildmaster was at least somewhat content, life in the Cistern was _much_ easier for everyone.

Brynjolf broke the silence. “Speaking of Mercer, does anyone know when he’ll be back?”

“Beats me. But if I didn’t know any better,” Delvin remarked slyly, “I’d say you were ‘oping for the return of your lovely little protégée.”

Brynjolf frowned. “Kajsa went with him? I thought the lass was doing some jobs in Markarth for you and Vex.”

“Nope. Frey brought ‘er along when ‘e left – what ‘as it been... a few days ago?”

“What for?” Brynjolf’s brow furrowed even further; the whole story was getting stranger with every word out of Delvin’s mouth. “Do you know where they were headed?”

Vex snorted indelicately. “Mercer is a man of mystery. I have no clue where he went.”

“Oh, cheer up, Bryn,” Delvin said jokingly, seeing the perplexed look on his friend’s face. “You’ll ‘ave your girl back soon enough. And ‘opefully, she’ll ‘ave some rare trinket to sell to me, plenty of ill-gotten loot for Tonilia, an’ good news of some jobs well done.”

“She’s not ‘my girl,’” Brynjolf sighed exasperatedly. “Just a damn good thief who happens to be a very old friend of mine.”

“Oh, an ‘old friend,’ is it?” Vex snickered. “Sure, Brynjolf. _Sure._ ”

“There’s nothing going on between Kajsa and I, and that’s final,” Brynjolf said firmly.

Tonilia raised an eyebrow. “ _Really_ _?_ Don’t tell me she rebuffed your advances like any _sensible_ woman would.”

Dirge coughed something under his breath about just _how_ exactlythe resident fence would know that. Vekel grabbed a broom and started sweeping, lest anyone see his poorly-concealed smile. Vex attempted to hold in some unladylike sniggers, while Delvin smiled in mock sympathy.

Brynjolf just glared.

The creaking of the Ragged Flagon’s door from the Ratway, and then its abrupt slamming, caught everyone’s attention. Six heads instantly swiveled to the footbridge.

Mercer Frey, his customary scowl even deeper than usual, limped past Dirge. His Guildmaster’s leathers were covered in dried blood and deep slashes. Where his gauntlets were missing, purpling bruises and more blood showed on his arms. An ugly gash on his forehead stood out against the pallor of his face.

The bar was so still, Brynjolf swore he could have heard a lock pick drop.

“What are you staring at?” Mercer snarled, breaking the stunned silence. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, I need medical attention!”

Vekel leapt into action, turning to Tonilia first. “Ton, I need supplies. Sinew, needles, bandages, and some potions if there are any left. You know where they are.” He pointed at Dirge next. “Bar the door. Don’t want anyone unexpected wandering in.” Finally, he glanced at the three thieves, still sitting around the round table with their tankards. “Just stay out of the way unless Mercer or myself needs your help.”

Nodding, Dirge headed off. The Guildmaster sat down rather stiffly on one of the barstools and shrugged off his ruined cuirass as Tonilia returned with a crate of medical supplies and set it down on the counter. Vekel, now examining Mercer’s injuries with a critical eye, murmured a few words of thanks before swabbing one of the deeper wounds with a soaked cloth.

Delvin whistled. “Damn. You got cut up somethin’ terrible.”

“I’ll thank you to keep your snide comments to yourself, Mallory,” Mercer retorted through gritted teeth; it seemed he wasn’t handling the sting of the healing potions very well. “I didn’t see _you_ tramping through a trap-filled Nordic tomb overpopulated with draugr.”

Brynjolf’s frown returned. “If you don’t mind my asking, Mercer, what in the name of Nocturnal were you doing in a barrow?”

The Guildmaster straightened up as best he could, considering that Vekel had moved on to bandaging his arms. “Tracking down Karliah.”

For the third time that night, a sudden, pall-like silence fell over the Ragged Flagon. Everyone present knew of the notorious Dunmer thief that, twenty-five years ago, had killed the previous Guildmaster, Gallus Desidenius, and then vanished without a trace. Ever since taking charge of the Thieves Guild, Mercer had devoted much of his time and energy to catching the murderess, but he had never succeeded in even catching up to her – _until tonight, it would seem,_ Brynjolf thought.

“Karliah?” he echoed aloud. “How did _she_ come into this? Did she –?”

“Yes,” Mercer finished grimly. “ _She_ was the one who bought Goldenglow Estate and financed Honningbrew Meadery in order to drive a wedge between the Guild and Maven. I didn’t realize it until your protégée returned from Solitude and told me what Gulum-Ei had said.”

 _Kajsa._ Brynjolf suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be with the Guildmaster. “Where _is_ Kajsa, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Delvin chimed in. “Wasn’t Bryn’s girl supposed to be with you?”

Under the shadow of Vekel’s arm as the barkeep stitched up the gash on his forehead, Mercer’s cold eyes hardened.

Even Vex looked slightly worried. “Did something... happen to her?”

“You could say that,” the Guildmaster muttered venomously, staring pointedly at Brynjolf. “She’s dead.”

“ _What?_ ” Fists clenched, Brynjolf shot up from his seat, nearly upending the table. “How?”

“Your ‘girl,’” Mercer sneered, now disregarding Vekel’s doctoring, “was a traitor to the Guild. She was working for Karliah and she paid dearly for it.”

“You – you _killed_ her?” Brynjolf said, his voice strained.

“Oh, no. The Dunmer shot Kajsa – that was the bitch’s name, wasn’t it? – before I could get much out of her. I just put her out of her misery. Your latest protégée is currently rotting on the floor of Snow Veil Sanctum with an arrow in her heart and her guts displaced.”

Dropping, Brynjolf buried his face in his hands. _No. This can’t be; that isn’t Kajsa._ “By the gods... how could I not have seen it? _How?_ ”

No one responded. Vekel averted his eyes from his upset friend and continued stitching up the Guildmaster’s wounds. Tonilia shifted her feet uncomfortably and Dirge chose to stick to the shadows by the Ragged Flagon’s sign. Vex picked at her chewed-off nails.

“She fooled us all, Bryn,” Delvin managed, awkwardly patting him on the back. “Kajsa seemed like a decent enough girl. Always did.”

“It was a fine act,” Mercer agreed gruffly. “There was only one problem: she was too damn good to be true. Think about it, Brynjolf. You need someone for a quick job to put Brand-Shei in jail and she _happens_ to be right there – someone who claims to be the daughter of a Guild member from way back, someone that we haven’t seen in a decade. I want someone to send Aringoth a message and she accomplishes what’s easily the toughest job ever assigned to us like it was child’s play. She even got that close-lipped lizard Gulum-Ei to talk!

“I didn’t fully figure it out until the two of us were going through Snow Veil Sanctum. It was obvious that Kajsa – if that even _is_ her name – was trained by Karliah; she always used her bow first and her blades second. The girl knew her way around every damn trap in that tomb and picked every single lock.” The Guildmaster spread his hands in a gesture of finality. “If that doesn’t scream ‘double agent’ to you, I don’t know _what_ does.”

“It became clear that _Kajsa_ was going to lead me into an ambush, and then finish me off with Karliah’s help. I confronted her and she confessed her guilt. That was when the Dunmer decided to tie up her loose ends. Arrow tipped with a paralytic poison. I saw no use in leaving the bitch alive, and I finished what Karliah had begun.”

Delvin raised his hand slightly to indicate a question. “Why not bring ‘er back to the Guild to answer for ‘er betrayal?”

“Are you questioning my methods, Mallory?” Mercer snapped as Vekel finished tying up the last of the bandages. “She would have died either way, if _that’s_ what you were wondering about. The Guild looks out for its own, but there is no honor in defending people like her.” With that, Mercer collected his discarded cuirass and weapons, and he swept off in the direction of the Cistern.

Vex was the first to speak. “I suppose that takes care of my competition, then.”

“‘ _Competition_ ’?” Brynjolf raised his head and glared at Vex. “You warmed to the lass, same as you all did. She was a born thief, through and through. Don’t you dare write her off like that.”

“She’s dead to us now, Bryn,” Tonilia said quietly, “both figuratively and literally. She betrayed our trust, and we would have paid dearly for it if she had succeeded in her schemes.”

“Kajsa was restoring us to our former glory,” Brynjolf argued, his voice rising. “She was making the Thieves Guild something to be feared! We were all the family she had; she couldn’t have turned against us! She _couldn’t_ have been working for Karliah!” _She couldn’t have turned against me._

“Easy there –” Delvin started, trying to calm his friend down.

Brynjolf pushed him away. “No, Delvin. _Don’t_.”

“It’s useless to deny it,” Vekel stated firmly. “Kajsa may have been a talented thief, but uprooting the Guild is no laughing matter. She would never have been allowed to get away with murdering Mercer.”

Vex, still wary of Brynjolf’s fury, spoke up again. “Bryn... how do you know that she wouldn’t have done this? I’m not making fun of you and your ways with women,” she added as he glared at her, “but Kajsa is – _was_ an old friend of yours; you said it yourself. So...” She shrugged awkwardly. “How are you so certain?”

Brynjolf thought, his memories of Kajsa wandering around and falling together into an indistinguishable muddle. Her braid swinging behind her as she ran through Riften’s streets, daring him to catch up. Her biting her lip while her nimble fingers fiddled with a lockpick for the first time. Her palm bleeding from where she’d sliced it open with one of her new daggers, trying to throw it up in the air and catch it just like he’d showed her a few days ago. Her tears soaking into his armor as she gave him one last hug good-bye before her stone-faced father jerked her away.

Her sitting at a table in the Bee and Barb, ragged and hopeless. Her in her new Thieves Guild armor. Her grabbing a bottle of Black-Briar mead with him in the Ragged Flagon after a job. Her selling enormous quantities of stolen goods to Tonilia. Her taking jobs from Vex and Delvin, a ghost of a smile on her face when she reported them completed – some of the only times she ever showed outward emotion.

Her pushing him away, pale face pained and hands warding him off, after he’d kissed her in the cemetery one rainy night. Her quietly saying that she couldn’t make attachments, that she didn’t love him in that way. Her disappearing into the shadows of an alleyway, leaving him alone in the streets with the bitter feelings of defeat and heartbreak, the woodsy smell of her hair still lingering in the damp air around him.

Kajsa was a mystery, a lock that he couldn’t quite pick, a code that didn’t quite translate. He thought he’d known her so well, back in a simpler time when they were younger. He thought that things between them would be the same now that she was back, but her mercurial nature and her fondness of isolation made it difficult for him to actually work with her, to get to know her all over again – easy for him to become smitten and hard to be rejected. He thought that he could give her happiness and make her smile again, that he could take away whatever heartaches she had and turn her back into the girl he’d known.

As much as he hated to admit it, he’d been wrong.

Finally, Brynjolf answered the question with a heavy heart and a harsh tone, knowing that what he said was the cold, vicious truth. “I’m _not_ certain, lass. I never was about her.”

 


End file.
